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A World Not Fit To Live In	By : snowblind12 & Lissa Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 78454 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: These characters and the Harry Potter world belong to J K Rowling and her publishers. I make nothing from this story and I own none of it. It is based off the work of JK Rowling.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Same disclaimer as always.
AN: A huge shout out to my co-writer LissaDream for her amazing talent. The beautiful descriptions of the Manor in this chapter are all her. I don’t even attempt this type of detail. There are links at the bottom of the chapter that will take you to the pictures that inspired her amazing talent.
LD and I are already working on the next chapter and will post as soon as it’s completed.
LissaDream has agreed to officially co-write the rest of The Affair with me which is really going to help move that story along. She has been basically writing it with me for quite a while now, so I wanted her to get the credit she deserves and have officially added her as co-author. We are going to work on getting one chapter posted and will then be getting back to Master Mine, which we know many of you are eager for the next update. We are eager to get back to that story as well!
Thanks for reading and reviewing!!!!
Chapter 12

Lucius quickly crept back to bed when Hermione stopped playing the piano, leaving no indication he had been listening. A few minutes later, he pretended to be asleep when she quietly padded her way back to his chambers and climbed into the massive bed. He smiled to himself when she let out a small exhale of relief, believing her exploits had been undiscovered.
It didn’t take her long to drift off, but Lucius was left stirring. He simply couldn’t fall back to sleep. Not one for wasting time, he soundlessly slipped from the bed to his bedroom desk where he grabbed parchment and quill. He watched the sleeping girl as he penned a note explaining he would not be at Malfoy Enterprises that day. He placed the note in the outpost tray and within seconds it glowed and disappeared – on its way to the Mansion’s owlery.
He turned back to the slumbering beauty in his bed. It had been a long time since a companion had slept beside him for the entirety of a night. Narcissa preferred her own bed for sleeping and would silently and gracefully leave for her own chambers after he fell asleep. Even then, she only came to his bed for lovemaking, and that had substantially slowed over the years.
He slipped off his robe and climbed back into the bed, taking care not to wake the girl. Lucius knew sleep was a great healer. While her body was handily healed by the potions, creams, and balms, her mind would only heal with rest and peace…and music and books.
Lucius rolled onto his back, thinking over the events of the day. He was curious where Draco had been sent by the Dark Lord. Draco was one who would typically brag about whatever task he had been entrusted with. It was odd he didn’t have the same puffed out chest and smirk of arrogance that was his typical display on these occasions. The fact he was keeping quiet had Lucius on edge. The boy was so desperate to prove his worth that Lucius didn’t necessarily trust his judgment. He worried Draco would act impulsively or without enough consideration for his person. All this to prove his worth to a master who, in all reality, held no value in anyone. Everyone was expendable to the Dark Lord.
Then there was the girl sleeping next to him. Lucius glanced at her; she was laying on her right side, facing him with her hands curled under her chin. Her face was so peaceful while she slept. Gone were the worry lines and the flickers of tension that normally peppered her expression. Even when she tried to be stoic and show no emotion, there were little tells that gave her away.
Hermione’s eyes betrayed her the most. They were exceptionally expressive. Today those orbs had been dulled, all hope had been gone. It had affected him more than he cared to admit to himself. He had witnessed such an array of emotion in those eyes over the course of her time in the Manor; from hope, to anger, to indignation, to despair and humiliation – he had even seen her humor. His favorite by far, however, had been her passionate, self-righteous fury – even though he told her he wouldn’t tolerate such outbursts. It was unfamiliar, yet somehow refreshing and invigorating to have this slip of a girl unleash her magnificent wrath on him. Even Narcissa had never dared such a thing. Knowing full well Lucius would not have allowed it, her ways of persuasion had been much more diplomatic. However, with Hermione, it had been captivating. It was what had driven him to kiss her… Circe, that kiss! The memory of the chaste taste of her soft, sweet mouth caused a stirring in him. His eyes moved to that inviting mouth, with its plump, pale-rose colored lips. He scolded himself for his reaction. You are a grown wizard! Stop reacting like a lust crazed adolescent!
He let out a puff of indignation as he turned abruptly to his right side, away from the sleeping temptress. The soft mewl that escaped her mouth at that moment may as well have been the French Belfry of Lille clanging away in the bed next to him. It jarred him and rattled the walls around his heart. The walls he had spent his life reinforcing.
In his entire adult life there had only been two people who’d had the power to crack that foundation; Draco and Narcissa. Draco from the moment he arrived, screaming and crying as he was forced to leave the safety and comfort of his mother’s womb. Narcissa, from the moment of her death. That was when Lucius realized the depths of his love for her – and it had been too late. Too late for him to do anything about and it had nearly destroyed him.
A small voice in his head whispered disturbing words. Disturbing words that terrified him and thrilled him at the same time. It’s not too late with this one. This could be only the beginning.
Hermione slowly opened her eyes as consciousness inched over her. The room was light, only it was not her room. Then she remembered. It was his bed, the biggest pureblood supremist of them all. Lucius Malfoy had commanded her to his bed…not for sex, but for sleep. So that he could watch over her and protect her from herself and his son. Lucius Malfoy had confided in her, made promises to her. Could it have been a dream?
As she continued to wake, she noticed the bed was empty next to her. She rolled over to face the massive suite and was surprised to find Lucius reading the paper on the leather wingback chair in front of his fireplace. She looked at the clock. Eight forty-five! She sat up quickly, why hadn’t he woken her for sex?
He studied her for a moment, smirking. “Were you cold last night?” he asked her in an offhanded manor. She was confused for a bit until she realized she had fallen back to sleep wrapped up in Lucius’ robe. Did he know she had wandered the manor last night?
“Y-yes,” she stammered. “I’m sorry.”
“No matter,” he turned his attention back to the paper. “Breakfast is on the table. When you’re through, Tinny will help you dress. After, I will take you on a tour of the manor.”
She stared at him in incomprehension. “Why are you not at work?” She was embarrassed when he looked at her appraisingly, his eyes wandering down her body. The robe was open, and her nightgown was not as modest as she would prefer.
“I felt it best I stay with you today, in light of yesterday’s events.” She flushed, pulling the robe more tightly around her. Begrudgingly, she accepted his reasoning.
Hermione ate the simple breakfast of fruit and oatmeal with more ravenousness than she had felt in weeks. “How am I expected to dress today?” she asked politely as she divested his robe to drape over the dining chair and sought out her own that was in the room somewhere – ah. There. She crossed to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace to pick up her soft robe, oblivious of the hungry eyes watching her every move.
“Casual is fine,” he answered, after clearing the thickness from his throat. It was obvious to him that that she was completely unaware of her attractiveness. Why did that make her all the more appealing?
“I would love to find some jeans in my wardrobe,” she teased with a small smile. “Any chance you could tell your manor you’d like to see me in them?” She laughed at his surprised expression. She felt so buoyant and light this morning. Yesterday had changed…everything.
Lucius swallowed hard, not so sure wearing curve hugging Muggle jeans was the way he wanted her prancing around the manor. He’d never be able to keep his hands off her – he’d had a weakness for the way jeans made a female’s bum look, ever since that first Rolling Stones concert. “That’s fine, but you will not dress in them regularly. Only if you know there will be no company, or if I send you to the stables to work. I recommend you do not wear them when Draco is around. And certainly, never in the dining room, Miss Granger. Jeans in the dining room would likely spur my mother’s portrait into action. Merlin help us if Willow Malfoy were to snap out of her blessed ten-year silence!”
She nodded her agreement, chuckling as he spoke about his mother. His tone had been light, almost teasing. Had he been fond of his mother? Looking for clarification, she asked “Okay for today?”
“For this morning. You will change before lunch,” Lucius instructed.
“Deal,” she practically danced across the room to the entrance of the mistress suite.
Thirty minutes later, Lucius Malfoy was silently cursing himself as he watched the girl in skin tight Muggle jeans and a lovely cashmere sweater walk ahead of him in the manor while he talked about points of interest. He became even more grouchy when she started discussing the architecture with him, asking specific, intelligent questions. Her intellect just made her all the more attractive to him. Most of the women he had spent time with in his life were a pretty face or skilled in the bedroom. None were particularly good at conversation. Yet, here she was…a Muggle-born. Someone who was supposed to be a thief of magic and inferior in every way. Lucius did not find her inferior, however, not in her intellect, not in her appearance, and certainly not in her magic.
After explaining that the third and fourth floors were mostly bedroom suites and storage and that he wasn’t going to tour her through them, they moved through the uninteresting parts of the second floor. He showed her a study that he was willing to let her to use, if she’d like, but purposefully skipped taking her into the drawing room she had been tortured in – twice. Once by his sadistic sister-in-law, the second time by his cruel son.
He started the main floor tour in the back of the house, wanting the lady’s parlor and rose garden to be last on his agenda. She seemed enchanted by the ballrooms. There were two. The first was used for more intimate affairs and was decorated in creams with gold brocade. There were three large windows that were set with window seats, and a huge crystal and gold chandelier in the middle of the ceiling that sat high above the diamond square parquet-patterned bamboo floors.
The other ballroom was used for gatherings of hundreds, in fact it could easily seat five hundred guests as it had for his and Narcissa’s wedding. There were seven floor-to-ceiling windows made of leaded stained glass. The windows were set apart by golden square pillars with brocade at the top and large rectangular mirrors on each side. Rich, mahogany paneling circled the room to chair rail height and was stained dark brown. Seven-inch tall base board circled the floor of the entire room and was stained one shade darker than the paneling. There were two large sets of French doors that were encased in more gold and brocade and elaborate detailing. What was truly splendid about this room, however, was the ceiling. Large rectangular expanses of complicatedly beautiful brocade separated with intricately painted beams. Ovals of ancient portraits were set into each rectangle and framed with more gold. Where each beam cross sectioned another, a simple, elegant candelabra hung. There were ten light fixtures in all. The floor was a deep, darkly stained oak board set in a herringbone pattern and buffed to slippery-smoothness.
He watched with barely concealed amusement as she walked into the middle of the Grand Ballroom, staring up at the paintings with undisguised wonder in her eyes. She did a twirl as she looked all around and took it all in. “This is beautiful,” she whispered. It sounded much louder as her voice echoed through the empty space.
“Yes,” Lucius answered. “It was my favorite room as a child. I’d sneak down here in my stocking feet and run as fast as I could before I would attempt to stop and skid along the floor.”
Hermione stared, mouth agape, at this beautifully regal and aristocratic man and tried to picture him as a small boy. “Show me,” she dared. His incredulous look made her laugh aloud.
“Heavens, no,” he sneered, adopting his usual cool and detached manner.
“I dare you!” she teased.
“What are you? Five?” he teased her back.
“No.” She brought herself up a little taller, squaring her shoulders. “Technically…I’ll be twenty soon.” Then she chortled. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun and be silly. In times like these, it’s all we have.”
He watched her carefully. The challenge was still in her eyes and he found himself wanting to answer it. What had it been? Almost thirty years since he held felt carefree enough to slide stocking-footed across the ballroom floor? Then he caught the eye of a portrait on the far wall. His father had been following them around all day. “Not today, Miss Granger,” he said in a cool tone. She didn’t miss his glance around the room, checking on other watching portraits. She immediately bowed her head, trying to show a submission she didn’t feel.
“Yes, Mr. Malfoy,” she answered softly, knowing she was going to have to play her own part in keeping herself safe.
He looked slightly surprised while offering her his arm to lead her from the room before drawling up short, something she said registered suddenly in his brain.

“Wait a moment,” Lucius’ head was reeling. “Did you just say you’ll be twenty, soon? Weren’t you in Draco’s year?”
Hermione gave him a mischievous little smirk. “I was,” she answered sweetly. “But my birthday is right away in September, I was the oldest in our class.”
Lucius did the math – that meant that she was born in 1979 instead of 1980…but to be twenty, she would have been born in 1978, which would have put her a year ahead of Draco. “The math still doesn’t add up, you should just be turning nineteen.”
The twinkle in her eye increased as did her secretive smile. “You promise not to tell Draco?”
“Sure,” he said crisply, glancing around the hallway as they walked.
“It was my third year,” she started. “You know, when we can take extra courses? I couldn’t decide which ones, so I applied for a time turner.”
“You were granted a time turner in your third year?” Lucius was shocked, and impressed. She must have been very mature for such a request to be approved.
“I was,” she smiled. “I…overused it a bit. I would use it to attend my classes, but I would also used it to study, and catch up on sleep. The boys thought I gave it up at the end of my third year, but I used it for fourth and fifth year, too. I was forced to give it back after the incident at the ministry, however, as it was the only working time turner left.” Here, she gave him a sidelong, accusatory look. “I had to drop two classes for my sixth year, which really sucked,” she sighed. “Anyway, by the end of fifth year, I had added three hundred and forty-two days to my life. The ministry agreed to round up and my birth certificate was magically amended. I turn twenty on the nineteenth of September.”
Lucius felt like the weight of a world had been removed from his shoulders with the news that she was older than he had thought. Why did one year make such a vast difference in his reasoning for his attraction and feelings for her?
“How…interesting,” he said, his voice a bit husky. He cleared his throat. “I think you’ll find this next room exciting. I had it magically renovated when we sent Draco to Hogwarts for his first year. It’s by far the most modern room in the house. I took a bedroom suite and two studies. Cissy argued with me about the bedroom suite, but there are just so many in this damned place. He pushed open a heavy wooden door and Hermione was instantly reminded of going to the local health center with her parents. The heavy smell of pool chemicals hit her like a wall, but then she saw the room and her jaw dropped.
The space was a huge rectangle, as large as the Grand Ballroom. The back wall, the longest, held floor to ceiling windows separated by alternating thin and thick pillars. The thick pillars were made of granite, the thin pillars looked like some kind of hardwood. When she looked closer, the pattern actually went thin wooden pillar, large window, thin wooden pillar, thick granite pillar, thin wooden pillar, large window, and then it repeated. The view was…spectacular. It was like looking into the Forbidden Forest, only the trees were younger.
Hermione realized this must be the very back of the house, she had only seen the view facing the front of the house and the rolling grounds. Butting directly up against the windows was an infinity pool. The basin of the pool was done in green marble and edged with the same dark granite as the pillars. Surrounding the pool on three sides were rough grained hardwood floors that reminded her of a ship deck. On the far left sat a sofa with end tables and a round dining table that looked to seat about eight. The other side held a small fire place, in front of which was an eight-person hot tub sunk into the wooden pool deck. There were three steps leading into tub with marble benches the same color as the pool basin to sit on. A door flanked each side of the fire place. There were six chaise lounges in three sets of two with end tables between each pair. They sat on the part of the pool deck that directly faced the pool and windows. There were sconces on each pillar as well as three medium crystal chandeliers hanging from what appeared to be a granite ceiling.
She turned huge eyes to Lucius, who looked insanely smug with her reaction. “This is…incredible,” she murmured. Lucius smirked knowingly.
It was quiet as she explored the room. After a few minutes, he quietly asked. “Do you swim, Hermione?”
She looked up in surprise at the use of her first name. He used it so rarely, usually calling her Miss Granger. He noticed her reaction. “This is a safe room – the humidity and potions to keep the pool water clean and clear make it a hostile environment for portraits. You may talk freely.”
“I do swim, Lucius.” She purposely used his first name, liking the power that it gave her. It put them on the same footing – instead of one of captive and captor, or older and younger. “This is unbelievable…” She looked around again. “Do you use it often?”
“I wish I used it more often,” he admitted. “Do you wish to be able to use it?”
Her eyes found their way back to his. “I’d like that very much,” she confessed. “It would be nice to have a way to keep myself physically fit. All this rich food you’re feeding me will be a problem once my appetite returns to normal.”
“What’s been wrong with your appetite?” Lucius was confused. She seemed to eat as much as any woman he’d ever known. Not really enough, in his opinion, but he had long ago learned to not mention eating habits to a woman if he wanted to keep his bollocks.
“Well, there’s the fact that I lived off bread, some sort of porridge, and water for almost two months. Then there’s been stress…and depression.” Her admission was reluctant, but she pressed on. “I have a very healthy appetite,” she shrugged. “I like food!” A chuckle escaped her this time. “If I don’t have a way to work it off, I’ll have to ask you to change the menus!”
He gave her a small smile, he understood. He knew Draco used his private workout room daily. He, himself, ran the grounds and rode horseback numerous times per week. He also very much enjoyed swimming – hence the massive expense of an indoor pool.
“What’s through the door ways?” she questioned, pointing towards the hearth.
“A sauna to the left and a bathroom to the right,” he informed her. “We should move on.”
She looked longingly at the pool again before turning to follow him. “I have two rooms left – I believe they will be your favorite.”
Lucius wasn’t wrong. When he gestured for her to open the next set of double doors and precede him, she had never imagined what she would see.
The Library was huge and went up two stories. The ceiling was cathedral in its making, painted in such a way it reminded her of the Sistine Chapel. There were huge world globes filling the center of the expanse with a few nooks that held desks and lamps. Bookcases were separated with large, carved spiral columns, their bases blocked and intricately designed. The bookcases and walls were wooden and stained with warm, comforting tones of brown. The balcony was scalloped and ran the edges of the entire room. It was blocked off with an ornate iron barricade. The floors were stone with alternating square and diamond patters in a creamy gold and a dark brown.
Her face was frozen in a mask of wonder. Lucius couldn’t help staring at her perfect O-shaped mouth hungrily as she took in the space. Her expression was that of orgasmic bliss.
“Do you think you’ll be able to find some reading material to your tastes in here, Miss Granger?” he teased with a snigger.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, not even caring that the question was most likely rhetorical. She stepped to the nearest bookcase, running her fingers over the spines of ancient texts and tomes.
Lucius watched her with utter fascination as she moved through the library, at one point looking up as she walked backwards. Her eyes were positively glowing with hunger – for knowledge. He had only ever seen that look in a woman’s eyes when it came to pretty baubles or jewels, but the girl was looking at books – not diamonds. It was captivating.
He let her wander a few minutes before calling an end to explorations. “We must move on, Miss Granger. One room left and then you shall go dress for lunch.”
She followed him reluctantly, two books in hand. “Is it all right if I take these with?”
He glanced at the titles before raising his eyebrows. Decoding B’alaj Chan K’awiil – Ancient Mayan Rulers and Potions, Herbs, Oils, and Brews. This was her idea of reading for fun? “I do suppose that will be fine. Just so you are aware, the room is enchanted. When you are done with a book, you simply put them there,” he pointed to one of the small nooks that held a basket on a rectangular table, “and it will reshelf itself.”
“Outstanding.” Hermione took note before moving to tuck the books under her arm.
“I’ll carry those for you,” he offered, holding a hand out. She cocked her head at him in surprise. That was awfully…chivalrous.
Lucius had been taught not to let women carry objects that could burden their gracefulness, of course. However, he had also been taught that, as the Lord of the manor, he shouldn’t be burdened with such a mundane task, either. Normally, he would call for a house elf, but something was compelling him to take and keep her burden.
A few minutes later, they entered the foyer, and Hermione’s heart started to thud loudly in her ears when she realized Lucius was leading her to the piano room. She took a deep breath and followed him into the chamber.
It was very different in the day time. The room was incredibly bright and airy – so different from the rest of the manor, which was dark and masculine. The walls and trim work were all done in white. The ceiling was vaulted and sectioned into squares with beams, and was also completely white. There were large, floor to ceiling windows at the back of the room and what looked like a door that led out into a garden. The tapestries were all cream and gold and were thick and heavy. There were two gold and cream patterned davenports full of huge, fluffy throw pillows done in bronzes, golds, and mustards. Two small, bergère style chairs flanked the moderately sized fireplace, the pillars that held up the mantel were carved cherubs. The center of the room was covered with a large oriental rug done mostly in creams with mustard and crimson accents. In the center of the rug was a large, upholstered coffee table done in gold with a large potted plant in on its middle and a few small vases circling it. End tables sat on the ends of each couch and held carved candelabras and a few (probably priceless) knickknacks. A few other plants in huge, beautiful crocks were placed in the room, giving it a homey feel.
Nearest to the entrance, though, sat the piano where Hermione had lost herself the night before and the breath whooshed out of her completely. It was so beautiful.
“Do you play?” Lucius asked softly, watching her face adamantly.
Hermione’s mind raced as she looked at the portraits lining the wall. Would they give her away if she lied? She didn’t know why, but for some reason she wanted to keep her talent to herself. She wanted to hold onto the secret a little longer. It was the only thing she had that was hers alone. Selfishly, she wanted to guard it.
“A little,” she whispered. “Not well enough to play for anyone.”
Lucius was just barely able to stop the surprise from showing on his face with her hesitant answer. She was lying – she had never outright lied to him before. Now he knew why, she was terrible at it. Her eyes were darting around the room and she was avoiding looking at the piano. Why would she lie about being able to play the piano? He glanced around the room at the portraits who were whispering quietly to each other. He needed to answer her.
“Ah.” He felt oddly hurt that she had decided not to share her talent willingly with him. “That is too bad, this is a lovely instrument. La Mort du Cygne – or The Dying Swan. It’s a baby grand piano that is made of solid, hand carved mahogany with a fruitwood veneer inlay. It was customized and built in 1906 and is an Erard. Are you familiar with Erard pianos, Miss Granger?”
Hermione’s eyes were once again fixed to the magnificent instrument. She had heard rumors of this piano, it had been lost in a fire in Germany in 1916. Apparently, it had really just been coveted by a Malfoy. “Does it do anything magical?” she asked.
“Not unless you count the fact that it will never play out of tune no matter how many years pass.” Lucius shrugged. They were quiet a few more moments before Lucius let his guard down just a bit. “It was my mother’s piano, Miss Granger. Purchased for her when she was born and betrothed to my father.” He cleared his throat and continued in a more flippant matter. “I would like for you to make this room yours, Miss Granger. It is the Lady’s Parlor – it’s seems only right that the only female in the house utilizes the space. The French doors over there,” he pointed to the floor to ceiling windows at the back of the room, “lead to the rose garden. You will be allowed out there unsupervised. It has been warded to keep you confined to that garden space. If you wish to walk the grounds, you must ask either Draco or me to escort you.” When she shot him a withering look, he smirked at her. “I’ll add Tinny to that list, as well, being that I am at work most of the week.”
She nodded her understanding, and he watched as she ran her hands over the detailed inlay of the Erard. “If I were to choose to practice my piano playing, Mr. Malfoy, would that be all right?”
He studied her hard for a long minute before answering. “I would be delighted for you to play the piano, Miss Granger. No one has played it in over twenty years. It deserves some attention,” he glanced at the portraits and caught the eyes of his mother. He had not spoken with her portrait in a long time, she gave him a soft smile. Lucius tore his gaze away from her and placed it back on the girl.
“And now, Miss Granger, it is time for lunch.” He motioned for her to take his arm. “I’ll escort you to your rooms, so you may change.”
Lunch was served with the usual savoir faire. Hermione had been dressed in a simple day dress in a deep, royal blue that made her creamy skin look utterly delectable. He had to admit that he missed the jeans, they fit her personality much better. Their discussion remained light, mostly discussing the manor and all in it from her extensive tour.
There were no awkward pauses, the few silences had been filled with the need to chew and swallow and then conversation would start right up again. She was refreshingly witty, and so bright. Lucius felt a warmth in his person like he had never experience before, especially when her smile touched her eyes. At one point, she was passionately discussing the design of the balcony in the library, and she reached out to take hold of his wrist while she talked animatedly and gestured with her other hand. He was so stunned by her casual touch that he couldn’t help but stare at it, his lips slightly parted with his surprise. When she realized why he had gone still and quiet, a striking blush filled her cheeks and she quickly let him go. He chose not to say anything about it, and began telling her about the architect that had designed the library that had been remodeled when his father was a boy.
That was when everything had changed. The French doors Draco had slammed through only yesterday were thrown open again, startling them both. However, when Voldemort glided through them, all the happiness was sucked out of the room. Hermione let out a small gasp and sunk back into her chair, her head going down.
The smile on Lucius’ face fell instantly into a mask of indifference when he saw Voldemort. His heart started to pound. What did he hear? Did he hear her happiness? Did he hear my humor?
“Ahh, Lucius, don’t get up!” Voldemort glided into the room with an air of superiority, a fake smile on his face.
Lucius stood anyway, bowing his head, knowing full well his master didn’t truly mean his words. “My Lord, had I known you were coming, a proper lunch would have been prepared.” Lucius didn’t even chance a glance at Hermione, there was no need for visual confirmation of her fear.
Voldemort waved his hand with false nonchalance. “Nonsense. I do not wish to impose. I merely wish to speak with you for a few moments.” Voldemort was scanning the room, seemingly taking in the portraits. Lucius didn’t miss the subtle greeting between his master and his father. Abraxas’ expression was even haughtier than usual.
Lucius moved away from the table and swiftly approached the madman he secretly despised. He fell to one knee, focusing on the ground between them. “I am at your disposal, my Lord.”
“Well, in that case, perhaps a moment in your study would be nice.” Voldemort did not look at Lucius or acknowledge his subservient gesture.
Lucius stood and motioned towards the door on the far side of the room. “Of course.” Voldemort glided gracefully towards the study room door with Lucius following close behind.
As soon as they were inside, Voldemort closed the door with a flick of his hand. Lucius knew at that moment his Lord and Master was fully aware of Hermione’s ability. The show of wandless magic had been by design, Lucius was sure of it. Closing a door was beneath the Dark Lord, he did not bother with such simple tasks. There were house elves and lowly wizards to perform such things. Lowly wizards, such as himself.
“Draco came to visit me yesterday,” the Dark Lord commented. His voice was casual, as though he were making light conversation, but Lucius knew better.
“Yes, my Lord. He told me you had a task for him that would require his absence for an unspecified amount of time.” He bowed his head deferentially. “I hope he does not disappoint.”
The megalomaniac sat in the chair closest to the fire, as he always did. Lucius noticed he was wearing heavy woolen robes that practically swallowed his frame. He was always cold, and Lucius wondered if his transition to a serpent-like being was still progressing. Voldemort looked from the fire back to Lucius. “No, I don’t suspect he’ll disappoint. Not this time.”
Lucius wondered what that statement meant and tried to disguise his interest. He kept his face a non-expressive mask, allowing the abomination sitting in front of him to lead the conversation.
“Draco told me of the Mudblood’s display on Saturday. Although, Abraxas was actually the first to disclose the story.” Voldemort cut Lucius with a penetrating gaze. “I’m surprised you didn’t find the information worthy of bringing to me.”
Lucius opened his mouth to defend his absence, but Voldemort waved him off dismissively. “It’s no matter. I always find out, as you know.”
Voldemort stood and walked over to the fire, sliding the iron poker off the fireplace accessory stand to adjust the burning logs. Lucius tried to conceal his panic as some embers began to fall and crackle. He swallowed heavily, and his heart began to pound as the Dark Lord continued to hold the weapon in the flames. It was hardly a subtle threat. When the fire roared back to life, Voldemort put the poker back in its rack. Lucius allowed himself a silent breath of relief, knowing it could all turn on a knut.
Voldemort brought his attention back to Lucius. “The girl is to remain safe. This…ability of hers. It makes her…appealing, more...worthy. Only if we can use her to our will, however. You and Draco must secure her unfailing loyalty. Whether you use roses or thorns matters not to me.” Suddenly, Voldemort’s look was piercing, and his voice turned hostile. “Bring her to heel Lucius!”
Lucius internally cringed at the degrading command. It would not have bothered him mere days ago…but now it disturbed him. Oh, what has this girl done to me?
“My Lord, yesterday, the Mudblood…she tried to take her own life…” Lucius hated to admit this, but he knew it would be a grave error to try to keep it hidden.
Before Lucius could continue, Voldemort turned a penetrating and threatening glare on him that caused Lucius to stop speaking instantly. His Master’s tone was soft and quiet, making his threat all the deadlier. “If any permanent harm should befall even one hair on her head, there will be consequences, Lucius. Consequences you have not imagined in that…secretive mind of yours.”
Once again, his master was scolding him for not coming forward with Hermione’s wandless display. Lucius realized he was losing the trust of the Dark Lord, and that was akin to death in the world of a Death Eater. He knew he would have to be more forthcoming in the future.
Lucius remained kneeling as Voldemort glided by and exited the room without another word or glance thrown his way. The door was opened, once again, with a display of wandless magic. When the door closed, Lucius let out a shaky breath. He continued to draw in lungsful of air as the panic slowly ebbed out of him. To say he was relieved to have survived another encounter unscathed would be a gross understatement. This one had been close. His thoughts went to Hermione and his eyes moved to the door when he realized she was alone with the monster.
Hermione was frozen to her chair. She considered leaving for her room or the Lady’s Parlor or the Library, but felt it would be in her and Lucius’ best interest if she stayed put. She could hear the soft mumble of voices, but could not make out any words. The longer she waited the more her panic began to build. Are they talking about me? Discussing my death? Yesterday she had been so desperate to end it all, but that was then. It was before there was a piano and a library…and a man who completely confounded her.
After about ten minutes, the door opened. Hermione felt dread when Lucius wasn’t the one approaching her. She swallowed heavily and stared at the plate in front of her, not daring to make eye contact. She may have stood up to this…creature…the last time she saw him, but she had no desire for another trip down Cruciatus lane.
He approached the opposite side of the table and tilted his head, sighing gently as he watched her. “Miss Granger, I have taken a great interest in your well-being. It is why you are living in the plush comforts of this Manor and not in a cell amongst sewage and rats. Please take care of yourself. Your life is far too valuable to be wasted.”
His voice was surprisingly soft and while it seemed he was trying to offer kindness, it was almost laughable. His false sincerity was … disturbing. “You are a smart girl, and – for a Mudblood – you have surprising magical talent. You are not something to be destroyed. Quite the opposite, in fact. You seem to be an enigma, an exception to the rule. You are something to be valued.
When he stopped talking, Hermione felt compelled to look up at him. She held her tongue and didn’t respond with the vitriol that was boiling inside her. I am not a something, I am a witch and a human being. Which is more than I can say for you, you freak. However, in the interest of her own well-being (and frankly for the safety of her keeper as well), Hermione decided it was best she pretend to play nice in the sandbox. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
The smile Voldemort gave her was perhaps the creepiest thing she had ever seen. Honestly, does this man ever look in a mirror? After a pause he continued, “Well, I’ll leave you to your afternoon, Miss Granger.” Hermione watched as he left, his robes disappearing through the door that lead to the floo.
When she heard the whoosh of the fireplace, Hermione felt her body go boneless as she started to tremble violently, and tears pooled in her eyes without her permission. So lost in her relief that that monster was gone, she didn’t realize Lucius had returned until he settled a warm hand on her shoulder, making her jump slightly.
“Come,” he commanded. Hermione quickly rose and followed him out of the dining room. Once in the hall, he took her in his arms. With a spin and a crack, they were in the stables. He didn’t let her go, only pulled her into his chest more tightly. The kindness of the gesture was enough that the tears spilled down her face freely as she drew a shuddering breath.
“Shh,” he said soothingly, his hold on her remaining tight. Because of how they were positioned, Hermione didn’t see the pallor of his face, which was as white as hers. Nor did she see the tight press of his lips or the fear in his eyes.
“Do you know what he wants of me?” she asked brokenly after a few minutes. Grudgingly, now that he’d had time to compose himself, Lucius let her go. She pulled back from him, wrapping her arms around her torso protectively.
“The only thing he has made clear is that you are to be kept alive and brought to see his side of things,” Lucius said softly, not looking at her.
“You know that I will never bow to him, Lucius, right? I would rather die first.” The venom in which she spat the words sent a shiver through Lucius. Her passion was catching, and his eyes snapped to hers to find her fierce determination.
“Then you will pretend,” he said arrogantly. “You will pretend, and you will lie. You’ll have to work on it, though. You’re a terrible liar.”
“Why are you so determined to help me?” The silence was deafening.
“I don’t know,” he answered finally.
“Can you teach me Occlumency?” she requested.
“I can try.” It was a smart question – it could keep them all alive if she could learn to lie and shield her thoughts. “Hermione?” She met and held his gaze. “You will have to submit – or Draco and I are dead right along with you.”
Caramel eyes held grey until she gave a curt nod. “I’ll do it for you – not for Draco.”
Lucius’ heart jumped at her words, and he found it difficult to swallow. “Fair enough, Miss Granger,” he finally responded after a few moments of silence. “Fair enough.”
Inspiration for the rooms of the manor were drawn from the following –
Grand Ballroom:
https://806d2bf04cf5fa54997a-e7c5344b3b84eec5da7b51276407b19c.ssl.cf1.rackcdn.com/responsive/1536/a3a80601ed9c61c5137a-e7c5344b3b84eec5da7b51276407b19c.r92.cf1.rackcdn.com/responsive/16:9/a3a80601ed9c61c5137a-e7c5344b3b84eec5da7b51276407b19c.r92.cf1.rackcdn.com/u/hotel-cafe-royal/events/Hotel-Cafe-Royal---Pompadour---Empty.jpg
Intimate Ballroom: https://shop.kongernessamling.dk/content/uploads/2016/08/Taffelsal-Chr7.jpg

Library:
http://camtenna.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/home-office-home-office-library-design-ideas-modern-home-ideas-elegant-home-office-library-design-ideas.jpg
Pool:
https://blog.klm.com/assets/uploads/2015/09/Four-Seasons_china.png
La Mort du Cygne, Erard – “The Dying Swan” worth $409,000:
https://media.izi.travel/a8a0e958-59de-4a08-b96c-dfe8d01d3b8e/bf4cfa87-866f-4e16-963d-f2ecd6e8f60e_800x600.jpg

https://artmiens.files.wordpress.com/2016/02/piano.jpg

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A World Not Fit To Live In